


Howling at the Moon

by Infinitely_Odd



Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Carlos in the Desert Otherworld, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cause im a slut for angst but my boys are in a healthy relationship, Cecil Whump, Cecil is Described (Welcome to Night Vale), Cecil is Patient (Welcome to Night Vale), Cecil is a Dork, During Canon, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post StrexCorp takeover, Sad Cecil, i guess, the boys miss each other :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21571576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Infinitely_Odd/pseuds/Infinitely_Odd
Summary: Sometimes Cecil wonders if Carlos even wants to come home.
Relationships: Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Series: Meanwhile, In Night Vale [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553950
Comments: 17
Kudos: 148





	Howling at the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: @oddpyromaniac  
> Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/bibliokleptic_aziraphale/  
> Good Reads: https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/99760524-eldritch-abomination

Another radio show ended, Cecil turned off the microphone and sat back in his chair. The show that day had been fairly average by Night Vale standards. The Erikas had been... non-existent and pretending to be angels, Steve Carlsberg had been a jerk, and there had been a spotting of Telly the barber on the outskirts of town.

The latter spotting had made Cecil's heart clench tight in his chest, and he worked hard to make sure his voice didn't waver. Carlos might be listening to this, but really he had no way of knowing. Better safe than sorry. 

The newest intern (Margot? Mark? Something beginning with M, Cecil felt guilty for not knowing) gave him the cheery thumbs up which he returned the best he could. Honestly, he wasn't feeling it tonight. The moon seemed duller, the strange blinking lights seemed less sparkly, and the Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives in Your Home (including Cecil's home) decided to leave him alone for that evening. Maybe she understood heartbreak. 

Cecil sat on the hood of his car, his hand on the side where Carlos would sit- the perfect mirror image of their first date at Arby's. The space beside Cecil remained cold and empty and void of any scientist, not even a single hair remained. Not even a fibre of a perfectly pristine, white labcoat. Cecil sighed, clenching his fist around the cool air. 

He couldn't remember how long he'd been alive- it couldn't have been _that_ long- but he couldn't remember ever feeling this lonely. 

It ached, his heart ached, his limbs ached with the strain of living alone without Carlos. It was stupid. Cecil was a grown person, a grown being. He'd managed when his mother died, when Janice got that life-threatening illness when she was small, when Old Woman Josie thought she had throat spiders (she didn't), or even when he'd asked Carlos out for the first time and was turned down. Even when he returned to his apartment after that, with his heart hurting and black tears running down his face, there was a glimmer of hope. A small flame still in his heart. 

But now, that flame was diminishing. 

The blinking lights in the distance reminded Cecil of that flame. It was strangely poetic, he thought. How the blinking lights were so far away and so small, that if you squinted your eyes they would vanish. Cecil wondered if Carlos could see them too. 

A second later, and his phone was ringing. The familiar name of his boyfriend appearing on the screen. Cecil answered it immediately. 

"Carlos!" He breathed out as if the phone held in his hand was an illusion of his desperation to hear his boyfriends voice once more. It wouldn't have been the first time.

"Cecil! Honey, how are you?" The voice on the other end of the phone asked. Carlos' beautiful, beautiful voice. 

'I am..." Cecil began. The word ' _fine_ ' and all synonyms on the tip of his tongue. They stuck to his tongue like vices, until he swallowed them. "Not good, actually."

"Oh, Cecil, what's wrong? Tough day at work?"

He hesitated. "Not quite...it was fairly standard. Had some nice weather today. How is the desert otherworld?"

"Babe it is incredible! There's nothing quite like it, and no words to quite explain. So I found some more sand today and, get this, it's made of tiny, tiny, tiiiiny shoes. Minsicule footwear. That's what we're standing on right now! Or, I am at least. That kind of explains why it hurts so much when there's a storm- I'm actually being pelted with shoes, probably including high heels. Man, this place just gets better and better."

"Carlos." Cecil interrupted, voice soft and hesitant. "When are you coming home?"

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. "I still have work to do here Cecil, you know that."

"I know," Cecil said, because he did know. Science was the most important thing in Carlos' life. Science was how they lived. Science was how Night Vale survived, of course, it came above Cecil but...it didn't mean that Cecil hurt any less. "I just miss you."

"And I miss you too, honey. I promise I do, but you know I need to stay here for now at least."

Cecil opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He tried again, only managing a hoarse sound that started at the back of his throat where the lump was growing larger and larger. The lump in his throat ached, his heart ached. Cecil ached once more. 

"Cecil?" Carlos asked, voice panicked and alarmed. "Cecil are you okay?"

No, Cecil wanted to say. He wanted to scream it until everyone heard. The townsfolk knew about him and Carlos, about their relationship. They knew how much Cecil loved him, but did they know how it felt? How painful loving someone was? Sharp thorns are still attached to roses, and even the most careful of florists get pricked every now and then. But there was no Carlos to dazzle him with science and 'disinfectant' and 'plasters' and kiss the pinprick on his finger better. 

Because Carlos was a thousand miles away in a different universe. 

"I miss you," Cecil said again, this time his voice was clotted with thick, black tears. "I miss you so much Carlos, it's unbearable." 

Another sigh, this one more resigned than the last. "Cec, babe, I know, and I'm sorry but-"

"Do you even want to come back?" 

Cecil sat up suddenly, back poker straight and magnesium eyes burning bright. The tattoos on his arms swirled menacingly, crawling up his throat and around the edge of his jaw. 

There was a stammer, then: "Cecil...what? What do you mean? I-"

"Is Night Vale not scientifically interesting for you? Have you moved on now, Carlos? Are you...are you ever really planning on coming back?"

"Of course I am Cecil."

"Well, _when?_ "

"I don't _know!_ " Carlos said, finally. His voice was raised louder than usual, though not quite shouting. "I don't know, Cecil."

Neither spoke. The blinking lights looked larger through the kaleidoscope of tears trailing down Cecil's face. They blurred into bubbly dots, returning to normal when the tear dislodged itself from Cecil's eye. A car drove past, a very Conspicuous Person was watching Cecil avidly, but he didn't care. "Are you even looking for a door?" He murmured, almost wishing Carlos wouldn't hear him.

Carlos let out a shuddery breath. "I promise, Cecil, I am. But you know how important science is to me-"

"More important than me?" Cecil snapped.

"Hey." Carlos snapped back. "That's not fair." 

Cecil knew it wasn't. But Carlos' soothing tones had grown weary. Did Cecil mean that little to him? Why was he the only one getting upset over this? Another round of tears threatened to fall, but Cecil clenched his teeth and held it in. A tense silence stagnated between them. Cecil wanted to apologise, but the wound was still too fresh to say anything. 

A hooded figure lurked nearby, just a little too close for Cecil's liking. "Carlos I have to go. There's a hooded figure nearby. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Cecil, wait-"

"Goodnight, Carlos."

And he hung up the phone. 

* * *

12 hours, a 3 hour long rant to Khoshekh, 1 hour to Dana, and a good cry later and Cecil was right back where he was the previous night. On the hood of his car and gripping his phone like a lifeline. 

It hadn't combusted yet, nor had it bled or cracked or spat acid at him. Maybe even the forces between the Desert Otherworld and Night Vale were pitying him. And boy, was Cecil pitiful. His tattoos flailed limply whenever he moved, lethargic and lacking energy. His hair was limp too, his eyes rimmed red and under eyes dark. The interns had avoided him that morning, and he didn't blame them. 

To put it lightly, Cecil was a mess. Even more so than the previous night. 

The thought of throwing his phone into the dog park crossed his mind, but he couldn't find it in himself to let go. A picture of Carlos and himself was his lock screen, one of him and Khoshekh was his home screen. The phone held texts and calls and Snapchats and Tumblr posts. And it held his only method of calling Carlos- assuming he'd even want to talk to Cecil after last night. 

A night of wallowing had sobered him. The anger had faded into regret, the aching had increased, but Cecil just wanted to apologise.

With a sudden surge of courage, he dialled. Almost immediately Carlos picked up.

There was a brief moment of silence where Cecil thanked whatever God was nearby for letting him get this far. But now he was here, he didn't know what to say.

"Hey," Cecil started. A greeting was customary.

"Hey, Cecil," Carlos replied. Names. Names were good. At least he was acknowledging Cecil's existence. It was a start. But where from here. Like most roads in Night Vale, the paths ahead were foggy and uncertain. 

Existence, love, happiness, all of them were a leap of faith. "I'm sorry Carlos. Everything I said to you...it...well, it wasn't a lie. I can't tell you that I don't feel that way, or that I don't miss you and don't want you here. That I don't think you want to return here. But there was a way of saying it nicely, and for the most part, it's irrational. So, I'm sorry."

A choked laugh sounded through the receiver. "Cecil, hey, I'm sorry too. You're not entirely wrong- I have been putting the oak doors to the side a bit recently. I just want to learn all about this place, and the masked warriors but, you're right. I should try and make my life more of a balance."

"Carlos if staying in the Desert Otherworld makes you happy then I'd rather you stay there than be in Night Vale and be miserable." 

"Night Vale doesn't make me miserable," Carlos said, a hint of a smile in his voice. "Night Vale is my _home_ , and I will come back. But this place is so interesting. I'm going to stay here for now Cecil."

Cecil smiled gently, feeling that same lump in his throat. "I know, I know that." 

"But hey, we'll call more often, okay? I promise I'll make more time for you. I'll text as much as I can and we'll call every night and I'll look for oak doors or other portals, and when I get back we'll eat Big Rico's and watch Cat Ballou as many times as you like. Maybe you can even visit here?" He paused. "What do you think?" 

Cecil laughed wetly, "Sounds perfect." 

"Great! Actually, are you free now? I have some insane findings I did when I was moping that you're going to find sooo interesting. And you need to tell me how work was today, I didn't manage to catch your broadcast."

The familiar tones washed over Cecil, who pulled his knees up to his chest on the hood of his car. "Tell me everything, my sweet, perfect Carlos."

And he did. Forgiveness was an unspoken thing between them. In the same way that "Neat!" meant: "I love you so much please keep talking I could listen to you all day." Sometimes the words that went unsaid actually spoke the loudest. They both trusted that things would be forgiven between them, and the couple realised they both were at fault. 

They spoke for hours, only stopping when Doug and Alisha came back with news of a new material they'd both found. As Cecil hung up the phone, he found himself feeling...fine. There was no crushing pain or hollowness or disappointment. There was a light of hope, the flame had returned. Cecil looked up. 

The sky was black, the moon glinting mysteriously. 

Cecil hoped, somewhere, Carlos was looking at the same moon.

**Author's Note:**

> so while listening to Night Vale on my commute I went through the whole Strex arc and hoo boy I was not ready
> 
> 'He is holding a cat' made me scream so loud my mum came in to see if i was okay- I wasn't. He was HOLDING KHOSHEKH AA what a bamf Cecil is
> 
> anyway during carlos' time in the Desert Otherworld I couldnt help thinking hey this is perfect for angst and i was waiting for it but my boys are great at healthy relationships so i decided to make it angsty myself and a plot bunny was born and I couldnt let it go, so here! 
> 
> i'd also like to point out that:  
> \- i have never fought with my gf so i dont really know what fights are like? But i think they were both in the wrong (in this fic) and worked it out in a healthy manner
> 
> and - i am in an LDR and some of cecil's sadness really hit home so kath, if you're reading this ily, <3 so cecil's sadness is a little bit of personal experience cause LDR sucks but it all turns out okay in the end
> 
> okay leave a comment and follow me on any of the links put at the top of this fic <3 
> 
> love, me


End file.
